The moment the spatial rift tore open, the world seemed to shudder as a deep buzz spread across the lake, causing space itself to twist and fold into a massive swirling gate suspended high in the air. Threads of silver light coiled along its edges while ancient runes flickered across its surface, appearing and vanishing like echoes from a forgotten era, and the surrounding air grew unbearably heavy, filled with a primal aura that pressed down upon every cultivator present.
All conversations ceased instantly, and every gaze, whether from proud sect disciples, wandering rogue cultivators, or seasoned elders, locked onto the rift as even the wind seemed to fall still, as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath.
At that moment, five powerful figures stepped forward as the Core Formation elders of the five major sects moved in perfect unison, their robes fluttering gently despite the absence of wind, and their presence alone caused the surrounding spiritual energy to ripple faintly. At the forefront stood Elder Jian of the Thousand Sword Sect, whose sharp eyes swept across the gathered crowd with an authority that allowed no defiance.
"The gate has now opened," he said calmly, yet his voice echoed clearly in every ear.
He paused briefly before continuing, "Before you enter, there are a few instructions you must remember. Some of you may already know them, but as a matter of formality, I will repeat them."
The crowd grew even quieter as he slowly raised three fingers.
"First," he began, his gaze steady, "once you step into the secret realm, you will be randomly transported. Whether you find fortune or fall into danger will depend entirely on your own fate."
A subtle stir passed through the disciples as excitement and unease intertwined in their expressions.
"The second," he continued, his tone hardening slightly, "the secret realm will remain open for only seven days. Within these seven days, you may seek heaven and earth treasures and rare herbs, but remember this clearly: when the seventh day ends, the realm will close, and everyone still alive will be forcibly expelled."
A ripple of tension spread across the crowd as his expression turned solemn.
"The third," he said, his voice lowering with unmistakable gravity, "within the secret realm, you may encounter regions shrouded in mist."
Several experienced cultivators stiffened immediately.
"Do not, under any circumstances, step into the mist," he warned coldly. "That mist is not a natural phenomenon; it is a forbidden zone, and until this day, not a single cultivator who has entered it has ever returned."
Silence followed, heavy and oppressive, as even the most arrogant disciples felt a chill creeping down their spines.
With the swirling gate pulsing behind him, Elder Jian finally declared, "Now that the spatial gate is stable, participants may enter."
He then turned toward the disciples of the Thousand Sword Sect, where dozens of carefully selected individuals stood ready, their eyes blazing with ambition yet shadowed by a trace of unease. After observing them for a brief moment, he spoke again, his tone carrying both authority and warning.
"You are the elite of your generation, and your blood burns with ambition and the desire to rise above all others. This secret realm contains opportunities that may change your fate, but do not forget that it is also filled with danger."
The disciples straightened instinctively as his gaze sharpened.
"Ferocious spirit beasts may take your lives at any moment, but these are not the most dangerous threats you will face," he continued, his eyes turning colder. "The most dangerous thing within that realm… is the human heart."
A brief silence followed as his words sank in.
"In that place, alliances will form and break just as easily, greed will cloud judgment, and a single moment of hesitation may cost you everything. You may cooperate and form teams, but remember this clearly: treasures are valuable, but your life is far more important."
He paused before concluding firmly, "I expect you to return victorious, but more than that… I expect you to return alive."
With a light wave of his sleeve, he gave the final command. "Now, go."
As the disciples of the Thousand Sword Sect prepared to enter, similar scenes unfolded across the camps of the other sects, where elders delivered their own instructions, warnings, and hidden agendas. Within the Vajra Sect's camp, however, the atmosphere was far colder as a burly elder addressed his disciples with iron authority.
"I do not care about your fears," he said bluntly. "I do not want to hear any excuses."
The disciples stood rigid, not daring to move.
"You have all received your assigned tasks from the sect, and you will complete them," he continued before pausing briefly, his eyes flashing with killing intent. "And if the opportunity arises… eliminate the two newcomers from the Thousand Sword Sect."
A ripple of tension passed through the group, but no one dared to question him, because in the world of cultivation, strength was law and orders were absolute.
At Elder Jian's command, the fragile silence shattered as disciples from every sect surged forward like arrows released from a drawn bow, their robes fluttering and spiritual energy erupting as they leapt into the spatial gate one after another. Their bodies dissolved into streaks of light as they were swallowed by the rift, and within moments, dozens had already vanished.
Amidst this chaos, Lestes remained still as his gaze shifted toward Feng Luo Chen.
He gave a slight nod.
Feng Luo Chen met his gaze and returned the nod without hesitation.
That silent exchange carried trust, resolve, and an unspoken promise to survive.
Without another word, she stepped forward with steady composure, her aura calm like a still lake, and as she approached the gate, the violent spatial currents seemed to bend subtly around her before she disappeared into the rift.
Now alone, Lestes felt the surrounding noise fade into the distance as the crowd, the elders, and even the roaring gate became indistinct. A strange sensation stirred within him, subtle yet undeniable, and as he placed a hand over his chest, he felt that unfamiliar ripple once more.
"…What is this…?" he murmured softly.
It was neither pain nor fear, but something far more elusive, pulsing faintly like an echo from beyond his reach, and he could not understand it, nor should he have been able to feel it at all, as his lack of colourful roots should have severed his connection to such sensations.
"And yet… It's still there."
The thought lingered in his mind as the sensation persisted, faint but steady, as though something within him was awakening or perhaps something ancient had always existed within him, waiting for this very moment.
The spatial gate released a deep and thunderous hum, as if urging him forward.
Lestes slowly lowered his hand, and as the confusion in his eyes faded, it was replaced by unwavering resolve.
"Whatever this is… I will uncover it."
With steady steps and controlled breathing, he moved forward and entered the spatial rift without hesitation, disappearing completely.
The instant he stepped through, the world collapsed into chaos as a violent storm erupted around him, and space twisted like shattered glass while time fractured into overlapping fragments, creating a terrifying force that surged from every direction and erased all sense of orientation.
There was no sky, no ground, and no sense of direction, only endless disorder as his body was thrown into the storm and dragged by invisible currents that distorted space itself.
His senses were overwhelmed as his vision blurred, and through clenched teeth, he whispered, "…Temporal aura…"
The realisation struck him instantly as he understood that this storm was not natural but was instead caused by the mysterious mist within the secret realm, a forbidden force capable of distorting both time and space.
The storm intensified as cracks spread across reality, revealing glimpses of an endless darkness beyond, and despite his efforts to stabilise himself or gather his spiritual energy, every attempt was crushed instantly by the overwhelming force.
Then the mist moved.
It did not drift aimlessly but surged toward him with intent, like a living entity that had chosen its prey.
Before he could react, it swallowed him whole.
A chilling force swept through him, bypassing his physical body and spiritual defences as if they did not exist, and instead of attacking his flesh, the mist invaded directly into his soul.
Lestes' pupils shrank as his consciousness trembled violently, his thoughts scattering while his will began to crumble.
"No… I won't lose control," he struggled inwardly.
But his body no longer obeyed him, and his control slipped away as the mist flooded every corner of his being, cold, ancient, and unfathomable, as though it was searching for something hidden deep within him.
His vision darkened, his breathing slowed, and his consciousness began to sink into an endless abyss.
Just before everything faded completely, a distant voice echoed through the void, ancient and resonant, calling out from beyond time itself.
"…Mystiques…"
The word reverberated like a summons.
And then
Everything went black.